


A Thing of Beauty

by draculard



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Complex Relationship, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Mind Manipulation, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: He sees how Palpatine looks on him now — the greed embedded in his eyes and etched into the corners of his mouth. The pride, the appreciation.The desire neither of them ever acknowledges.
Relationships: Sheev Palpatine/Darth Vader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26
Collections: It's All in the Name (Take #1)





	A Thing of Beauty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurae/gifts).



He never hesitates to kneel before his master. The metal of his suit and the durasteel floor of the Emperor’s chamber thrum against each other, sending the vibrations of travel through time and space up Vader’s limbs, into his teeth, until his jaw is clenched beneath the mask and he feels as though he might just shake apart. 

He remembers how Palpatine looked on him when he was a child.

He sees how Palpatine looks on him now  — the greed embedded in his eyes and etched into the corners of his mouth. The pride, the appreciation.

The desire neither of them ever acknowledges.

“Rise, my apprentice,” Palpatine says. His hands are outstretched; gracefully, he curls his fingers in, gesturing Vader forward. And like an animal with a leash around its neck, Vader approaches. 

He takes his place at the side of Palpatine’s throne. He feels the Emperor’s hands upon his mechanical arm; feels it through the suit, not like flesh feels flesh, but like a conduit feels electricity flowing through it. 

He’s silent as Palpatine raises his hand. His ventilator hisses; he watches white fingers approach his mask. Palpatine’s touch ghosts over the curved edges of Vader’s mask, caressing. Possessive.

“Take it off,” his master says, and he feels  — how could he not?  — the flare of hesitation in Vader’s mind. 

It’s vanquished almost instantly. Vader finds the clasp behind his head and hits the release; his mask opens with a pneumatic hiss, coming apart in his hands. He holds it before him like an offering, knowing even as he does so that Palpatine won’t take it, doesn’t want it.

Those yellow eyes meet his. The Emperor’s smile grows. His hand finds Vader’s pale, cold cheek; his thumb brushes the corner of Vader’s eye, trying to draw a flinch.

“Ah, yes,” Palpatine whispers, and Vader takes a breath through the ventilator, lets his eyes fall close. 

Allows the words to wash over him like a wave. 

“You always were a thing of beauty,” Palpatine says.


End file.
